When words are what we have to give

I don’t have any profound thoughts right now. I don’t have a book to promo (although I have a Ukraine charity anthology coming next month – A Kiss for Ukraine – but no link yet)

All I can offer is the thing I do when times are dark. Write stories. So here’s one.

The Power of Love

“What are you doing?” Cole asked me from the doorway.

“Checking.” I pushed shut the dresser drawer full of cute, tiny onesies and rompers I’d spent the last two minutes staring blankly at.

“Checking whether the baby’s clothes had somehow vanished into thin air?”

“Har, har.” I pushed past my husband, my shoulder hitting his harder than I intended.

He grabbed my arms to keep his balance. “Hey, Trevor, talk to me.”

All the things I wanted to say, shouldn’t say, snagged in my throat like a log-jam in a river, sharp and tangled. I shook my head, pulled free, and headed to the kitchen. Maybe I could do the lunch dishes.

Except when I arrived, the table was clear, the sink sparkling, counters wiped. “How did you…?”

“How did I what?”

“Clean everything so fast?”

“Hon, you were in the nursery for almost half an hour.”

“I what?” Half an hour? Surely it was just a minute ago he said something about gender-neutral baby colors and the words sent me to the nursery in some kind of nebulous panic, looking for pink outfits for Alice to come home in. Looking for something… “You’re kidding.” Except a glance at the clock said I’d put lunch on the table over an hour ago. “Fu—fudge.” We were trying to tone down the language, get ahead of the curve. The swear jar on the counter was going to fund a trip to Disneyland at this rate.

“Come on.” Cole approached me like I was a spooky horse, his hands out and wide. “Come sit on the couch with me.”

“I want to run.” I stared at the spring sunshine outside the window. “I need to move.”

“I’ll get my shoes.”

“No!” I saw the hurt in his eyes but I couldn’t relent. “I need to run fast, get my head on straight. I’ll be back, I promise.” Something in his expression said he hadn’t thought the opposite till I mentioned it. Regret tightened my chest and I moved close to him, bent and kissed him. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit nuts right now. I’ll be better when I run some of the stupid out of my brain.”

“You’re not stupid.” He went to the kitchen, snagged my phone off its charger. “Take this. Just in case.”

“Of course.” I was dressed in jeans but didn’t want to waste time changing into running gear. I shoved my phone in my pocket, a ball cap on my head to restrain my hair, and laced up my sneakers.

Cole held the door for me. “Have a good run. Call if…“

“I’ll be back soon.” I let myself out into the cool Saturday air. A smart runner would warm up and stretch and start slow, but today wasn’t about being smart. It was about powering up so fast, so hard, that I had no room in my head for anything else. The pounding rhythm of my feet on the pavement and the chilly rasp of air in my throat needed to be all-encompassing. I sprinted, my head down, strides as long and fast as I could make them. Up the hill, along the strip mall, down the other side, in a wide arc. At the park, I turned onto the path that ran past the playground.

A few kids played out there, bright laughter pitched as high as the fluffy, floating clouds. I didn’t mean to look, but I couldn’t help it. At the top of a climber sat a little girl with hair the wheat-straw blond of Cole’s. She stretched her arms up to the sky and laughed. Our child might look like that. We’d decided not to test to find out which of our sperm had won the race.

She looked so happy, so free, so oblivious to how shitty the world could be, that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Which is why I ran smack into an old man, knocking him over.

The impact jarred us both. I went down too, one knee hitting the pavement in a flash of pain. But all my concern was for the poor guy I‘d bulldozered. “Shit! Are you okay?” I scrambled up to bend over him. “I’m so sorry. Do I need to call 9-1-1?”

He waved a hand at me. “Give me a minute. Let me catch my breath.” He’d been wearing some kind of hat and it lay upside down on the grass. His thinning white hair stuck up in disarray above a wide, wrinkled face. I grabbed the hat, dusted it off on my thigh. Stupid, when the man might have broken bones, but he sat up and held out his hand. “Give that here.”

I passed over the hat and he settled it on his head. “There. Better. My husband says he loves my bald spot, but I feel the cold these days.”

“Can I help you up? Do you need a doctor?” The word husband chimed through me, but I couldn’t focus on that.

“Give me a hand, young man. There’s a bench over there.” He waved toward the playground.

“You shouldn’t move if you might’ve broken something.”

He patted his hip. “Landed on my tuchhus which is well-padded. Next time someone nags me about my weight, I’ll remind them of this. Come on.”

I set a hand under his elbow and the other behind his back and lifted.

He stood with a groan, and I kept my hold on his arm as he took a tentative step. “Gonna want a hot bath when I get home, but I’ll be fine. I should sit a minute.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Distracted running. There’s probably a law against it.” I was babbling as I lent him support to hobble over to the bench. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call a paramedic?”

“No, thanks.” He eased onto the seat and patted the boards beside him. “Here. Sit a minute. You look pale. You had a shock too.”

I realized I was breathing hard and my skin felt clammy. Probably sweat from running, but my hand shook when I released his elbow. I collapsed onto the bench. “I guess so. Sorry. I could’ve killed you.”

He chuckled. “You may be a well-built young man, honey, but you’re not a tank.”

I blinked at him, surprised at his phrasing to a stranger. I was out and proud, but I still kept things close to the chest, especially these days.

Perhaps my shock was clear, because he said, “I’ve seen you before, running with your…boyfriend? Husband?”

“Husband,” I affirmed. Then, before I could think better, “We’re expecting a baby any day now. That is, our surrogate is. A girl.”

“How exciting. Mazel tov.” He smiled. “My husband and I love to see the young couples making families.”

“I don’t know.” I stared down at my hands twisting in my lap.

“Don’t know what?”

“Are we doing the right thing?” I raised my gaze to meet this old man’s and suddenly all the doubts and worries I didn’t want to burden Cole with came spilling out of my mouth. “We started this baby journey nine months ago and it feels like…like the entire world has changed. Now I’m afraid. She’ll be a little girl with two gay dads. How cruel will this new world be to her? My husband talked about dressing her in greens and yellows and other non-gendered colors, so if, just if… well, she wouldn’t hate her baby pictures. And I freaked out because God, if she was trans, would they take her from us? Would they hurt her? There was a bill in Montana—” The world spun around me.

“Shhh.” The old man laid his wrinkled hand over my agitated ones. “Hush now. Breathe.”

“Sorry!” The word squeaked in my throat and I realized he was right as my chest heaved, fighting for air.

“Breathe. In… Out… In… Out… In… Out. Now name three things you can hear. Three things you can smell.”

Kids’ voices, traffic, a dog barking. Mown grass, lilacs, a woodsy cologne. I opened my squeezed-shut eyes.

“Three things you can see.”

A bush, the sky, an old man full of kindness. When my vision became less sparkly and the blood stopped rushing in my ears, I murmured, “Thank you.”

“Oh, no worries. My hubby used to get panic attacks now and then when we were young.”

“I don’t. I never have.” I slid one hand out from under his to rub my face. “I feel like such a fool. This isn’t me. I used to be competent.”

“Becoming a parent is scary.” He patted my hand. “We fostered a boy, my cousin’s son, when she landed in prison. Twelve years old, a good boy, and it was still terrifying. An infant? That’s a big step. And right now, we’re all so on edge, every new thing feels like that last straw.”

“Is it fair?” I whispered. “To bring a child into this world? More, to bring her into a family like ours?”

“All I can say is that we need children. Look over there.” He pointed to the climber. The blond child was gone, but two small boys sat in the upper level, talking, heads close together, silhouetted against the sky. “That’s our future and our hope. Without children, without a future to fight for, we might as well all jump in the river.“

I nodded. I didn’t tell him that sometimes I thought we should cheer for that asteroid, let the planet start over without us.

“Do you love your husband?” he asked. “Is he a good man?”

“Yes. The best. He’s kind and thoughtful and smart, and… someone I can trust.”

“Will he make a good dad?”

“Yes. I’m not worried about that.” Cole was made to be a dad.

“And I can tell you’re a kind young man and responsible, if a little distractable. A child could do a lot worse for a father.”

“But…“

“But nothing. You’re going to love this little girl with all your hearts. You’re going to fight like hell to make the world a kinder place that she can grow up in. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And the child you raise may be the one who cures cancer, or figures out how to recycle plastics properly, or whatever. Or maybe she’ll be a teacher or wonderful mom and raise sweet kids of her own. Whatever she wants, you’re going to give her every chance in life. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Son, there’s a lot of evil in this world. My parents saw some of it, up close and personal. But the only answer to evil is joy, is hope. This baby’s on the way? Coming soon?”

“Andrea’s due to be induced in two days, if she doesn’t start first.”

“Your little miracle. Would you really hand her off to someone else, because you were afraid?”

“If it was better for her. Safer.” My heart constricted because I already loved Alice, though all we had were a series of ultrasound scans, her rounded head and tiny fingers growing, already clutching my heart. “I’d do whatever was best.”

“Love is best. Home is best. When we took in Joey, he’d spent four months in the foster system, thinking no one wanted him. That’s no place for a baby.”

“Babies get adopted right away, though.”

“To a better home than you and your husband could give her? Are you sure?”

No. There were so many dangers in the world. I wanted Alice safe, but nothing I did, nothing we chose, would guarantee it. Andrea might keep her, but she hadn’t wanted another child, she’d given us a gift. Imagine thinking you’d been thrown away. “What‘s Joey doing now?” I asked. “Is he happy?”

“Got a great wife and two daughters. Works too damned much, that boy. Well, he’s forty now, not a boy, but he’ll always be my boy.”

That. I want that. Alice forty, with kids of her own, and Cole and me saying, “She’ll always be our girl.” “I’m glad,” I told him.

My phone picked that moment to ring in my pocket. I pulled it out. “Cole? What?” He never called when he could text. I’d been gone a while, but not long enough to panic.

Cole’s voice came loud in my ear. “The baby! Andrea’s in labor and they say, it’s going fast. We should get to the hospital.”

“Okay, but…” I turned to the old man. “I was going to have Cole drive over and give you a lift home.”

“Don’t mind me. I heard your husband. Get to the hospital.” He flapped his hand at me as if to shoo me off. “The bus stops right at the corner. Takes me to my door.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I told Cole, “I’ll be home in ten minutes.” After I cut the call, I asked the old man, “Would you let me give you my phone number? So you can text me when you’re safely home.”

“Ach, young man, you’re going to have to pace yourself in life if you’re going to worry about everyone that way. But sure. I’ll give you mine. You can send me a baby picture.” He recited his digits and I put them in.

I asked, “What’s your name?”

“Hershel. And my hubby’s Jack. You?”

“Trevor. My husband’s Cole.” I finished the entry and texted, ~Hi, this is Trevor the soon-to-be-dad. I heard his phone chime in his coat pocket.

“There it is,” he said. “Good thing I didn’t sit on it.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that. You should check the screen.”

“Go!” he told me. “Find your husband and go meet your daughter.”

I pushed to my feet, hovered. “Thank you. And I’m so sorry—“

“What part of go didn’t you understand? Scoot. Skedaddle.”

I couldn’t fight the certainty in his faded blue eyes. With a nod, I turned and sprinted off. My knee ached like crazy, but the pain felt good in a weird way. Like a reminder that I couldn’t control life. I had to roll with the punches.

Cole was waiting for me by the door and he pulled me into a hug, a grin he couldn’t suppress curving his lips. “Are you better? Head straight? Our kid’s on her way.”

I cocked a hip and told him, “Nothing about me is straight.” Then I rushed up the stairs calling back, “Five minutes. I need to be clean to hold our daughter.”

We made the trip to the hospital with my hair soaking wet, dripping cold water down my back. Cole drove with his hands clenched on the wheel at ten and two, like he was going to be tested on it later. We seemed to hit every red light, and my knee bounced despite my best efforts.

“Third labor usually lasts from two to five hours,” Cole said, as if we hadn’t both looked up that information. “Andrea’s husband said she started at twelve-thirty.”

“Ninety minutes ago.”

“Right.”

“We should be in time.”

“Right.”

“These fucking red lights fucking suck.”

I got a laugh at last. Cole told me, “Yep. And you owe the swear jar three bucks.”

“Worth it.”

We pulled into the hospital parking area, got a ticket from the meter, and made the long trek inside to reception, then up three floors, and then followed the blue line on the floor to Labor and Delivery. A nurse had us sit while she went back to see what was up with Andrea and confirm we were allowed in.

Cole and I perched side by side on the edge of a vinyl loveseat. Around us, other family members waiting on their own miracles chatted and scrolled their phones and drank coffee. One old guy snoozed in the corner of the room, head on his chest, snoring. The websites had said up to eighteen hours, even more for first babies. I wondered how long he’d been there, how long we’d wait. Andrea had said as much as she liked us, we were not getting a sight of her naked hoo-ha. Frankly, I was fine without the view of lady parts.

But the nurse came back fairly quickly. “Cole and Trevor? If you’ll follow me, someone has a present for you.”

We bounced to our feet. “Already?” Cole asked.

“Some women are very efficient.” She smiled. “This way.”

Four doors down the hall, she knocked. “Ready for company?”

Andrea’s voice from inside said, “Sure. Send them in.”

I let Cole go first. Took a big breath and followed him.

Andrea lay propped up against the pillows. At her side, her husband Matt gave us a nod. And in her arms… Andrea said, “Daddy? Papa? Meet your daughter.” She tilted the bundle she held so we could see Alice’s tiny face.

Cole stopped so abruptly I ran into his back. “She’s so little.”

“Seven pounds, six ounces. You wouldn’t call that little if you had to push it out of your vagina.” Cole flinched and Andrea laughed. “Come on, she’s waiting to meet you.”

Matt got up from his chair. “One of you sit here. I’m going to go get some coffee. Andrea, what can I get you?“

“Lemon soda and a donut?”

“Your wish is my command.” He bent and kissed her, then headed to the door.

As he passed me I said, “Thank you. So much.”

“She did all the work.” He nodded at his wife. “I just let her cuss me out.”

“Two donuts,” Andrea called to him.

He grinned and slipped out, closing the door behind him. The nurse had left. I never even noticed.

Cole said, “You want the chair, Trev?”

“You go first.“

He eased himself into the vinyl-upholstered armchair at Andrea’s bedside.

She leaned his way, passing over the blanket-wrapped bundle of our baby. “There,” she said as Cole settled Alice in his arms. “You’re a natural.”

I went and knelt at his side. Alice’s eyes opened, bleary baby blue, and she peered up at Cole. Her rosebud mouth pursed but she didn’t cry.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cole murmured. “I’m your papa and that’s your daddy right there. We’re so happy to meet you. You are going to be so loved.”

I brushed the satin back of her tiny hand with my finger. “Hi, Alice.” She gripped my fingertip, her clutch surprisingly strong. “Yeah, hang on and never let go, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

Cole bent and kissed her head. “She has so much hair.”

“She’s adorable. Oh my God.” I blinked at Cole. “We’re fathers.” As Alice drifted off, her fist slackening off my finger, I kissed Cole’s cheek, then turned to Andrea. “She’s beautiful. Perfect. And so are you. You’re a superstar. We can’t ever thank you enough.”

“Just love her.” Andrea gazed at the baby in Cole’s arms. “Always. Unconditionally. That’s all the thanks I need.”

“I promise.”

“We promise,” Cole said.

My phone chimed and I dug it out. Probably some politician but— No, Herschel. ~Home safe. A little achy but nothing the hot tub won’t fix.

I sent back, ~I’m glad. Thanks for telling me. Then I raised the phone and took a quick photo of my daughter in my husband’s arms, and sent it. ~Meet Alice.

~Cute. And the baby’s adorable too. Congratulations.

I snorted and put the phone away.

“Did you get a good picture?” Cole asked. “Everyone’s going to be asking. We should do an announcement. Who did you send that to? Your folks?”

I shook my head. “A friend. Someone who was there when I needed him.”

Cole rose carefully, holding Alice. “Your turn. Sit and I’ll give her to you.”

I moved to the chair and held my breath as Cole settled our baby in my lap. She was lighter than I expected, so tiny and perfect and precious. A tide of love stronger than anything I’d ever felt flooded through me. What had Hershel said? You’re going to love this little girl with all your hearts. You’re going to fight like hell to make the world a kinder place that she can grow up in.

“I swear it, little girl,” I murmured to the child in my arms. “I’ll love you forever and I won’t give up. I’ll give every last ounce of breath to give you a future where you can shine.”

Cole leaned over me, his arm around my shoulders, and set his hand on Alice’s tiny chest. He kissed my temple. “I dreamed about a family like this when I was younger. Never thought it could come true. Gonna remember this moment forever.” He looked over his shoulder at Andrea. “What Trevor said, times ten. Thank you.”

Then his lips found mine, a gentle kiss. Alice wiggled in my arms without waking.

For joy, and not for panic, I went through the exercise again.

Name three things you can hear: the ding of a bell, footsteps in the hall, Alice’s baby yawn.

Name three things you can smell: a hint of chlorine, Cole’s favorite shampoo, the sweetness of baby Alice’s hair.

Name three things you can see… I looked at Andrea smiling tiredly in the bed, at my husband, and down at our child. Love. Just love. In this moment, the world outside had no power. All I see is love.

 

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